Stepping Stones
by Shaynie
Summary: Tylendel was given his choice just like any other Herald. But what does Lord Death have to say about it...


_Grief._

_Rage._

_Loss._

_Confusion._

_PAIN!_

The thunder boomed, simultaneous with lightening. The deafening roar was all that impacted on his senses as he sprang to life from a lethargy that he had not even known he was in. All that was important was running, running to fill the void, running to fill the emptiness left by _her_.

Why hadn't she understood? They had deserved it, They had.

They deserved it. And she should understand. She had always understood before. She should understand.

She should.

CRASH.

The light and sound took over, and the tumultuous half thoughts stopped as the pain came to the fore. Something _hurt_, somewhere far, far away. But it hurt almost too much. The empty space and the hurting made it hard to understand the _why_ of anything, and the chaotic feelings his gifts were sharing with him made it all the harder to think.

..._Get him! Get him...stop him!... _female, half hysterical, blurring into a male, blurring into someone…

familiar.

A face came, dark hair, beautiful, looking so…alone. But it melted, flowing back into the landscape.

Familiar.

What? Where?

The hail pecked at his face. The beleaguered youth turned, rushing backwards. Nothing matched, nothing mixed.

_Pain...oh where...? 'Len..._

Even more familiar, but pain, so much pain. It hurt, he hurt, they hurt, everything hurt, and the empty was there, and no one can understand…

But she was supposed to,

Why didn't she?

Where was...

Who...

She was gone. Lost. She told him to leave.

But she said.

She said she would always be there, listening, supporting.

Why.

She left.

She CHOSE.

Stone. Stone...hurt.

But everything hurt. Falling...on stone...that didn't matter. Away was important. Far enough away no one would know.

No, no, no, no.

No one would know. And she would be there, (but she CHOSE to go...)

No. But.

Stairs. Walking.

BRIGHT.

And loud. But...down. There was no way down.

Oh yes. It was...that way.

The air was so nice, so co-

And suddenly the ground was there. And Savil, hugging him (why can't I answer her. She's so worried). But...Vanyel. Where was he...?

Tylendel noticed another, sitting next to him, beckoning for him to take his hand. The man, dressed as a herald, was not wet, though the downpour was vicious. His body felt light, and when he moved his hand, it was as if there was a double of him, one almost translucent.

Then the scene blurred, like paint slowing flowing off paper. The chaos of the scene, Savil, the Tower...everything disappeared to limitless blackness.

Everything except the Herald. He stood, looking at him with a gentle smile, impossibly beautiful. Midnight coloured eyes, with sparkling lights in their depths, framed by a black eyelashes. Face, perfectly shaped, with a fair complexion. Black hair, hanging passed his shoulders, carefully bound with a piece of leather.

Tylendel stood, gaping at the stranger, confusion evident on his face.

The man chuckled, sounding vaguely like Vanyel, and Tylendel ducked away guiltily. The last moments coming to him in perfect clarity, and the knowledge that he had left his lifebonded alone, in pain nearly as great as his, closing his throat.

The man nodded, then slowly touched Tylendel's chin, bringing their eyes together. The stranger's eyes were strangely compelling, and the youth found himself drawn deeper, and deeper, following the man's life history as he was drawn nearer, closer. Following the path of Death over countless millennia.

Death held no anger against him, Death would not condemn him for this sin, but Death would advise him, will he or no.

Slowly, Death allowed him freedom, and he came out of the trance slowly.

"Choose young Herald, for that is what you are, seeing as the Bell was rung for you. All Heralds of Valdemar are offered this choice, but for you, this choice is perhaps more pertinent." The lips smirked, showing perfectly white teeth.

"You have caused deaths, young one, but no Herald is truly guilt-free. Fear no vengeance for that. All Heralds have caused at least one death unwittingly or no, but that is not under your control. Your choice lies in a decision. Your love for Vanyel is strong and true, none will dispute that. But does your love extend to a return to the world that has caused you so much pain?"

Death, stopped, stepped back, and began to step up an invisible staircase. He finally stopped, eyelevel with the young Herald, and sat, looking the boy in the eyes once more.

"What you have done, perhaps unknowingly, is given Valdemar the only salvation they can ask for. As the years pass, many will come to me because of the border wars. Vanyel, and only Vanyel, can stem that flow. Your lifebonded has the abilities of more then five Heralds, and a more then substantial Mage-Gift that the backfire from the Gate opened up tonight. Without him…Valdemar, and many of the lands surrounding, would be doomed."

Tylendel blinked, taking in the information silently. He had seen the inactive gifts as the lifebond had progressed, but never had he guessed at their extent! Tylendel shook his head, thinking of Vanyel. His lifebond would…be destroyed by his absence, and he rued the fact that he had ignored Savil when she had warned him.

Death sighed, touching Tylendel's face lightly. "Truly I wish for the both of you happiness, but it is not for me to decide. I have granted you a small boon for this time. I have allowed sanity to once more grace your spirit. Once you have made your decision, you will have to repair your spirit yourself, with aid, until your choice is available for you."

Tylendel nodded. "What…are my choices?" He asked timidly. Bowing his golden head of curls, once more immaculate. Only now did he realize that he, too, was wearing whites. The whites he wished he had truly earned while in the realm of the living.

Death smiled once more, leaned down, and kissed Tylendel square on the lips. Startled, the boy pulled away, but Death smirked at him, coyly, and returned to his perch in the air.

"All Heralds are offered the opportunity to go directly to the Havens. Because of your service to others, it is your gift…and right. Many Heralds take this option without hesitation, and it is encouraged. However, with you, and others like you, the other option may be more...palatable."

Death paused, sending a scattering of stars throughout the blackness. "You have left young Vanyel alone, and though he is broken right now, he will mend. There will be many trials facing the greatest Herald-Mage known to Valdemar, however, and there will come a time when he desperately needs his lifebonded again. That time you have been granted to return to the land, reincarnated as another, and help Vanyel, and the people of Valdemar. This will be a time of redemption for you as well, and should you prove yourself, Gala has promised to return to you…"

Tylendel stopped, a sharp stabbing feeling attacking his body. The feeling of loss grew, to almost unbearable proportions, before fading away, moments later. Tylendel stopped, and almost collapsed to the 'floor' of the space he was in. Death jumped to assist him, but was too late. Tylendel sat, brokenly crying on the floor.

Death gathered the youth to his arms, and hugged him gently. "I know it is not fair, _ke'chara_, but there is little I can do. The choice is yours, and you have as long as you choose to make it. I urge you to return to the land. The life you live will not be easy, but you are needed Tylendel...after that your rest can come."

Tylendel hiccupped brokenly, and leaned against Death. "Aye, my lord, and I agree. But...gods. Van, Gala...Staven. All of them. I wish..."

Death nodded. "I know lad, I understand better then you think." Death hummed a song comfortingly to the broken boy, and sighed. "I wish I could continue this moment longer, but you have chosen. The mending...shall begin..."

And Tylendel felt his soul fall, spinning, towards madness once more.

Fragments caught, half remembered people spinning away, tantalizingly out of reach. The loss of people was normal, the loss of self was worse.

Years passed before the broken spirit began to piece together the fact that the creature sent to aid him, was none other then the one that had sent him down this path to begin with.

'_Gala…?_' He mindsent, voice tremulous.

'_Yes dear heart...I am here. I have...helped as I could._' The voice belonged to Gala, but the form was wrong.

Gala was a bright blue...figure. Amorphous except for her hands, which were currently stroking Tylendel's curly head.

Tylendel shuddered, pain slicing through his spirit. "Why now...?"

Gala sighed, and replied haltingly. '_Because there was no one else. Soon there will be, but for now, Chosen, you must return. The time...has come.'_

Tylendel shuddered, his form curling in on itself as both memories and sanity cut through his spirit. He clung to the figure of his Companion, sobs racking through his frame. He hid his face in his hands, and tried to block out the guilt.

Then, the room spun, and suddenly the blackness around them was filled with a presence. The male Herald from before, shockingly...pained to Tylendel's raw Gifts, and he stood before them. Tylendel, laying almost entirely on the formless shape of Gala, prone on the floor.

"Which name will you choose young one?" Death asked, his face impassive. "Your faults in this world, that which drew you down into your despair, will be taken away from you. You will be what Vanyel, and the King needs most. A bard. A bard with a unique ability."

Tylendel turned his anguish ridden face away, his eyes fastening on the limitless blackness around them. Death had constructed a room for him, time stilled to his own mental stability. Still, the offer had been made, and would have to be accepted or not. And need was one thing that could still penetrate the limitless blackness of life for him.

He lifted his head, looking Death in the face. "Stefan." Tylendel whispered.

Death nodded, and waved his hand. The spirit that had been Tylendel disappeared, falling away to nothingness. Death sighed, rubbing his face tiredly.

"You have won your place more times then should have been required, dear one."

Gala's amorphous form fluttered a bit, then moved towards Death, before stopping uncertain. '_Things will work out. Fret not. I will go and wait for my Chosen...there will be a time to be rejoined…_'

Death smiled haggardly. "Yes, dear one, that is true. Go and find your rest until that date."

'_And you, Lord Death, will you take your rest? Time will still if _you_ need to rest your weary spirit...God or no._'

"No, sweetling. Not God to any of your ilk, nor God in any true sense. Messenger with some power, rather. Now go seek your rest before I find you another needing your abilities. I shall rest when...I find the time..."

Gala nodded, almost imperceptibly, and faded away as Tylendel had...leaving Death alone.

This was supposed to be a drabble.

I blame...well I don't know who to blame...but curse them!


End file.
